


Bullseye

by blueteak



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Character doesn't safeword when they should, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, S&M, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: Maverick and Ice have different ideas about what's happening in their relationship in bed as well as out of it.





	Bullseye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/gifts).



Maverick couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. Well, not about this, exactly. This, exactly, would have both of them up on charges no many how many MiGs combined they’d shot down (or flipped off while in an inverted dive, thank you very much). Then again, maybe they could get away with it. There was always the possibility that Jester would let it go in his delight over being able to put another name on another plaque, one that awarded the man who had finally broken Maverick. 

And Ice would win that one too, for sure. Goose probably hadn't had this in mind when he'd warned Maverick that Ice didn’t make mistakes and would wear him down, make him frustrated (maybe Maverick would call Goose at physical therapy and ask him if that's what he'd meant. Though he'd probably make Goose fall over if he told him, thus negating the benefits of post-crash physical therapy). He was beyond frustrated at this point. He felt almost like he was spinning out, like he was in Ice's jet wash again and the only way he could keep control, keep from crashing was to grit his teeth as hard as he could and trust that it would be over soon, that Ice’s arm would get tired or he’d think he’d turned Maverick’s ass the perfect shade of red (probably closer to purple now, anyway) and stop. Then maybe he’d be proud of Maverick for taking all that he’d dished out, proud of Maverick for taking the heat and proving he could be the perfect wingman (as it were) for this encounter, proud that Maverick could stick with it until the end so they could both find pleasure.

Unless…unless Ice really did want to break him, show him that he didn’t have control, that he’d be Ice’s wingman in the air forever too since he couldn’t keep it together and he’d always let him down and disengage when he should stay in the fight, when he should…

Suddenly Ice was talking. He wasn’t asking him to count, or, apparently, ordering him to do anything else, so Maverick let the sound wash over him, figuring it was safe to ignore it. Paying attention now would distract him from getting though this in one piece.

It wasn’t until Maverick felt a blanket—a soft blanket, the softest blanket he’d ever felt, honestly, and who would have thought Ice would have one like this at his place, really?--that he realized the belt whipping part seemed to be over. Ice was calling him Mitchell in the way he only ever had before when he wanted to be sure that he was connecting with Maverick, to make sure Maverick knew that they weren’t competing, not then. 

It was still hard to focus on what Ice was saying. He had moved on from wondering where this soft blanket had come from to wondering why he had been given a blanket in the first place. He and Ice had done a bunch of kinky shit and Ice could definitely pound him through the mattress, but he’d never heard of being pounded through an actual blanket. Was it coated in something that would make his skin burn after a few minutes? Was this some DoD thing Ice had smuggled out to test on him? And who on earth was making that sound through his headpiece, that shaky, “Can’t land this plane” sound that had been in his ears when he’d had to guide Cougar in on his wing? He definitely couldn't make out what Ice was saying over all that noise.

“Mitchell, Maverick…you’re okay. Okay? Breathe with me.” 

Oh shit. He was the one, he was the one breathing like Cougar had and thank fuck he wasn’t flying a plane and why did Ice have his pants back on? 

Then Ice was taking his hand (when had the cuffs come off?) and encouraging him to shift onto his side, so he was being spooned, back pressed to Ice’s chest, the blanket now draped over them both. Gradually his breathing fell in line with Ice’s. He drifted again, but felt anchored. Ice's strength seemed more supportive now, not threatening. 

When he became aware of himself again, he realized two things: one, that his ass hurt like hell and two, that he had no idea what Ice was going to do with this. They didn’t have a “Maverick gets restrained and spanked hard and then cuddled when he freaks the fuck out for who knows what reason” relationship. At least, he hadn’t thought they did. And he hadn’t thought Ice even owned a blanket like this, or would wrap him in it and help him come back to himself the way Maverick had helped Cougar come back to himself, at least enough to land his plane. 

It was nice, having Ice wrapped around him, one of Ice’s hands occasionally trailing through his hair. But he was okay now, and he needed to know how nice (or not) Ice was going to be now that Maverick wasn’t actually spiraling down anymore. 

Best to test the waters with a joke. If Ice was mad at him, he’d kick him out, maybe even slap his sore ass and tell him to swing by again when his bruises had healed. They had started out like that, after all. Well, to be fair, they'd started with Maverick leaving after they were done. Maybe not the rest of it. Now maybe this would be a reset, take them back to square one. No more sleeping over, no more kisses on the shoulder when they were both half asleep and maybe Ice thought he was someone else. And if Ice was actually worried rather than angry…Maverick couldn’t actually conceive of that even though the evidence of Ice’s worry was currently draped over him in the form of Ice's arms (and also the ridiculously fluffy blanket). 

But what did it mean if Ice was worried? That he was taking care of him like any half decent human would after a freak out like that, or that Ice…maybe liked him? 

Apparently he’d been thinking too loud, because Ice started the conversation for him.

“What’s on your mind, Mav?” Ice asked, voice neutral, but with a tension in it Maverick wouldn’t have noticed before they'd started all this. 

Ah, well, at least Ice was giving him an opening. “I was thinking we’d done everything there is to do, but we’ve never done breath control stuff before. Kinky.”

Ice’s laughter sounded a bit forced. “Kinky, yeah. Maverick, turn around.”

Fuck. Ice had done this ever since they’d first met, stared him down, made sure Maverick knew that Ice could read him like a book he didn’t want to buy, made sure Maverick knew his place. 

It was different now, sure. Ice didn’t flash his teeth at him to intimidate him anymore, for one. When Ice wanted to put Maverick in his place now, he had ways of making him want to be there. And want to be physically put there.

Maverick turned around, biting his lip against the pain moving caused. He gave Ice the eye contact he knew was desired, but looked down again immediately. Not because he'd seen anger in Ice’s eyes, or even disappointment. Instead, he'd seen something that looked an awful lot like fear, like Maverick had the power to scare Ice. That had been so unexpected that he'd had to look away, just for a moment.

Now he wanted to take that fear away, even if he didn’t have a fuzzy blanket of his own to wrap around Ice.

So Maverick met Ice's eyes again, and this time turned the question around. “What’s on your mind?” he asked so gently he was certain Ice would never respect him again. 

“Can you tell me what went wrong?” Ice asked, eyes scanning Maverick’s face as though it could provide an answer regarding why they were having a heart-to-heart now instead of fucking. 

It was a question, not a demand, and it implied (as if Maverick didn’t already know from what he’d seen in Ice’s eyes when he looked into them, as though he hadn’t known for a while now already, if he dared to let himself believe it) that Ice wanted to do it again. That Ice actually cared about Maverick beyond not wanting to screw him up doing kinky stuff in bed. That maybe he actually liked Maverick. Maybe a lot. 

Maverick smiled, coming back to himself a bit more. “We don’t have to do a whole accident hearing on it do we sir?” he asked, re-engaging a bit in the game. 

To his relief, Ice smirked back at him. “We do if we’re ever doing anything like this again.”

“And if we don’t do anything like this again?” Maverick asked before he could help himself. They'd never really just...done it. Would Ice want him any other way? 

Maverick’s utter mortification at having blurted that out must have been plain on his face and Ice laughed, but not mockingly, as he might once have done. Then he leaned in close, forehead touching Maverick’s.

“Then we don’t. I can think of plenty of other things to do. Can't you?"

Maverick grinned. Oh, it was on. He'd show Ice everything he could think of. "Mmm hmmm," he replied, grinding against Ice, just a little. "But I still want the other too," he admitted. 

Ice sighed in mock resignation. "Of course you want it all, Maverick. Accident report in the morning, then. 0700. Now let's get to sleep," he said kissing Maverick on the forehead.

As Maverick drifted off, he realized they hadn’t even talked about him sleeping over. It had just been assumed that he would.


End file.
